Written by a rollergirl, this blog is dedicated to challenge the misconceptions of women and size.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Bad Case of the Mondays

Today has sucked from the moment I awoke in the middle of the night to hear J getting sick in the bathroom. It all started with last night, really, when J came home with a bucket of the new KFC Hot Wings. It’s true, we were both suckered into buying them after watching the commercial – a wing without hot sauce that is still hot AND crunchy? We had to try it.

I was suppose to be Flexing this week, which means that I work an extra hour each morning and get to leave at noon on Friday, but that went out the window as soon as the wings made their encore for me at 6am. I usually get to work at 8:30am, so I should have been there at 7:30am, but instead I was there at 9am due to the inability to get off of the toilet to get ready for work.

I finally get my shit together (no pun intended) and make it downstairs to take my vitamins and let the dog out when I realize I forgot to pick up my antidepressant prescription yesterday. Insert long sigh here. At least I made lunch last night. But where’s the coffee? Why isn’t there coffee (not like I need it with the current state of my bowels)? Crap. I assumed the coffee pot was clean because it was in place and not on the sink. Wrong. It’s dirty, and J mustn’t have had time to wash and prepare the coffee. Boo, no coffee.

I make it out the door, and it’s drizzling outside. Whatever, I have a short walk to the car and an umbrella in my trunk for my walk into work from the garage. I’m already late, so I might as well stop by Giant and pick up my meds. God knows things will be even worse if I miss a dose! The only good thing so far is that I’m fairly sure we were able to fix the problem my car has been having – the random hesitation and sometimes inability to “go” even when I’ve got my foot on the gas.

Have you ever had one of those moments in the car where you realize you’re further along than you remember being, and you wonder if you accidentally blew any red lights or stop signs because you really haven’t been paying attention for the last 5 minutes that you’ve been driving? I was almost at Giant this morning when I was like, “How the fuck did I get here?”

I made it to Giant, got a spot right up front, and beat an old man to be the first in line at the pharmacy (beat, as in “raced him to the counter and won,” not as in “beat the hell out of him”). I got my meds, left, got to my garage, parked, popped open the trunk to get out my water and umbrella, but there was no umbrella. THERE WAS NO UMBRELLA! Luckily I was wearing a hat.

As I’m walking from the garage to my building I’m thinking about how bad I have to poop again. “If the handicapped bathroom is open when I get upstairs, I’m going right in there,” I thought. “Oh, god. Clench. Clench. Clench.” And then I’m thinking about that one episode of Torchwood where the Asian chick gets a necklace from the lesbian alien she’s been screwing that allows her to hear other people’s thoughts. And I’m glad that no one actually has that technology, because I would be really embarrassed to have someone know I was planning my next episode of explosive diarrhea and rushing at that. Well, I guess I wouldn’t be too embarrassed, because I’m obviously posting it here for all the world to see. It happens to us all at one point or another, right?

As I walk into my office building, I see this guy who looks familiar. Who is he? then it hit me. "Hello!" I shout at him as we pass each other. It's the semi-creepy guy I met at a party this past summer who told me he "knew me" because we park in the same garage - told me he had "watched me," that he knew my car (and all the stickers on it and had apparently formed some sort of idea of who I was based on that). When he realized who I was this morning he stopped and turned around to talk to me, but I couldn't do it, and I couldn't even be nice about it. I just hit the "elevator close" button and pretended I didn't see him turn around. Really, I'm too nice of a person.

I get off the elevator and the handicapped bathroom (the only “single” stalled bathroom at my work) is in use. I rush in to put my stuff down, take off my coat, and make it to the regular bathroom where I could care less at this point. When it’s between shitting your pants at work and having others hear you poop in the toilet, I’ll opt for #2. Enter our office manager. I’m now trapped in my office. I’m holding on for dear life as we discuss our weekends and how she’s feeling somewhat better from her cold, but still not all the way better. I make it to the bathroom, and luckily I’m alone.

For the next 3 hours I’m in the bathroom more than I’m at my desk. J calls. He couldn’t handle being at work in his condition of distress (and it had started to rain), so he went home where he now has the comforts of a clean, private toilet that is available any time he wants it. I’m jealous.

It’s now 1pm, and the handicapped bathroom is STILL in use, and I’m beginning to think someone just accidentally locked us all out of it. Great day for that to happen. I may have just tempted fate by eating the sandwich I brought for lunch, but damn it, I was hungry!